Dawn of Anarchy
by Jason Strong
Summary: Jaeda is daughter of the most notorious supervillain of all time. But when her mother is destroyed by the League, Jaeda teams up with her cousin to get reveange and destroy them. But she's doing it differently than most- she's working from the inside.
1. Prologue: Skies of Pure Azure

Heads turned. It was an oddly suspicious sight, no doubt about it, but staring was considered rude, was it not? Or, did you wave all your rights of courtesy when you did something out of the ordinary? And if you did, then would it be considered immoral? What about equal rights and all that jazz? Certainly, if whites could sing jazz and gays could get married, a woman could walk down the street in a trench coat? It wasn't _that _out of place.

Viola wondered what bystanders thought of her as she passed—maybe they thought she was a hooker. Though if anyone were to have the nerve to approach and ask a question like _how much do you charge? _She would waste no time making sure they knew she was not a skank, and they would walk away with a handprint on their face, and freshly crushed nuts. Just as she had done in the past.

They could think she was a stripper. Although she had never danced exotically, she couldn't say that she had never been naked on stage. That, however, was an accident. Her father sure didn't think so, though. All he knew was that a multitude of men had seen his daughter's breasts, and that was enough for him to reach for his booze and shotgun. After all, he had a family reputation to protect, and he wasn't going to let a group of horny middle-aged losers mock it.

What if the people thought she was an undercover cop—a detective, perhaps? She laughed slightly at the ironic thought of being grouped with any type of law enforcement. She was much, much better than they would ever be, and she knew it. She was swift, strong, intellectual, and resourceful. Of course, so were police men, but they were bound to human limitation. She was not.

She tried to avoid the awkward moment of meeting the eyes of the people around her. She gazed ahead, looking stern and frightening to anyone who watched. She was stiff as a board, and didn't even sway her arms as she walked through the streets of the city. Every now and then, she grinned to herself. These idiots that whispered as she passed had absolutely no clue what was to happen in just a few short minutes.

Viola looked at her watch. She had a good fifteen minutes before everything would be ready, which gave her plenty of time to check up on things. With all luck, every bit of her plan would go swimmingly, and very, very soon, she'd be an immensely happy woman.

It was busier in the town center than on a normal day, which was another thing that made her happy. Things were looking up for her today, but of course, they always were. She was, after all, an extremely powerful and terrifying woman—the people around her just hadn't figured it out yet. However, soon, they would recognize her, and they would run and shriek in terror, which was Viola's favorite part. They actually thought she'd waste a second of her valuable power and skill on mere civilians—as if. Maybe some other villain, but she, was above such child's play.

The super-villain had been in town square much too often not to know the entire layout. She'd been terrorizing the place for almost twenty years now and still wasn't ready for retirement. Not until she locked her place in the history books as the greatest villain to ever fly through the sky. It was much pressure, though. If she were to fail, she'd land in the timeline as the world's greatest failure.

Failing wasn't an option to Viola. It never had been, and it wasn't going to become one now. She'd gone too far to fail now. She was a feared woman—even members of the League trembled at the sight of her cape flapping in the breeze. There was no failure, and no turning back. And today, was just the beginning, she could feel it. There was still so much work to be done that she wasn't sure she could do it alone.

Alone. What a sad little word, is it not? That was another thing about Viola. She had been alone in most of her villainy. She'd only ever had one partner, her twin sister, Violet, who retired almost eighteen years prior. And still, her sister was the only person she didn't mind tagging with.

She stared at the payphone across the street, made of glass and painted red. She could see her reflection in the polished glass—her slick, black hair pulled back in a tight bun that made her look years older than when her hair was down, her natural tan, glowing skin, all covered by her old, ugly khaki trench coat. It was then she realized that most people assumed she was a prostitute that was off duty, as she was wearing knee-high black boots with heels.

She shook her head, annoyed as she caught another pig-headed teenage boy staring at her like she was from the planet Yilmaed. Her inner conscious told her not to worry, that he'd be speeding down the street on his skateboard in terror soon enough.

Without as much as looking both ways, the middle-aged criminal stepped into the busy intersection to cross the street. She ignored the obscene gestures the drivers of the vehicles gave her. It was harder not to let her anger get to her at the expense of the people who yelled out their windows as they swerved to dodge her.

"_There's a crosswalk right there, you dumb bitch!" _One guy yelled, as his friend in the passenger seat flipped her the bird. She bit back the burning desire to incinerate the misguided fools right then and there. But she knew that that would only ruin her little surprise. All she could do was hope that they would still be around when the trench coat came off.

As she stepped up to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, she looked at the sky. She could now more clearly see League headquarters towering over some of the smaller buildings. She scowled. That place was the bane of her existence. Too bad it was where she was headed.

To better hide her disgust, she hurriedly crammed herself into the phone booth. After depositing a few coins, she picked up the shiny black receiver and dialed the number.

It rang three times before her sister picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Viola demanded, looking at her watch and then shortly following that, she directed her attention to the unsuspecting victims outside.

"At home," her sister answered—she paused a beat. "Why?"

Viola didn't reply, and she heard Violet scoff on the other end of the call. "What are you up to now, Viola?"

"You say it with such distaste," Viola said, her voice tainted in sarcasm.

"There's a reason for that," her sister grumbled. "You have a _daughter _at home!"

"And your point?"

"She is probably worried sick. And now that you've called me, I am too. This is getting ridiculous." Violet replied.

"Jaeda knows that she has nothing to worry about," Viola defended herself. "And I'm rather surprised that you'd call this ridiculous—_Madame Mayhem_."

There was a small pause before her response. "I told you never to call me that." Her voice was calm, yet at the same time angry. "Madame Mayhem is dead. They all saw me die."

"Because I helped you fake it," Viola reminded her. "You owe me for that."

Violet sighed. "What do you want this time?"

"I need your help."

Violet's reply was instantaneous. "No."

"Violet, I have a strong feeling the League is up to something!" Viola was getting upset, which was never good at times like this. "They have these filing cabinets—"

"Filing cabinets?" Violet yelled in sarcastic shock. "And I thought _you _were the villain!"

"Will you be serious about this?" Viola was offended.

"No, I won't." Her sister countered. "I'm sick of the fact that every time we see each other, our time together consists of you trying to convince me to put on my old costume and make trouble. I told you, I won't do it."

"And why not?" She asked, but she knew the answer already.

"I have Cody now," she responded. "And unlike you, I actually care whether or not I come back to my kid."

Viola looked at the skyline. The skyscrapers plunged into the sky, seemingly poking holes in the clouds, breaking them as they passed through. "Don't accuse me of not caring for Jaeda. I just realize that having children doesn't mean that you give up all the goals you set for yourself in life. We had goals—"

"Having children means sacrifice." Violet responded, interrupting Viola's rant. "And whatever you're going to do today, I don't want to know about it. Let me be surprised like the rest of the city."

"If you insist." She responded in almost a pout. "Just stay at home until it's clear or you will be hurt. I have no control over this one."

"Isn't that just _lovely?_" Violet replied—again sarcastically.

"Like you said," The villain responded. "Sacrifice."

Viola could hear the sound of the dogs barking as her sister entered the living room of her house. As soon as the dogs realized who it was, they settled down again. "You know, I'm going to stop trying to give you advice, because there has never been one time that it hasn't come back to bite me in the ass."

Viola checked her watch. "That's because we have two different opinions on the same subject. So that's bound to happen." It was almost time to activate her plan. She didn't wait for her sister's response. "I've got to go." And she hung up the phone. She looked outside, no line had formed, so she was in the clear.

She dug in the pockets of her jacket and fished out a few more coins. She placed them in the machine and dialed another number.

"Hello?" Her nephew's voice answered.

"Cody?" She asked. "Is everything set?"

"Uh. Yeah." He responded timidly. There were only two people in the world who Viola knew that weren't scared of her; her daughter, and her sister. Sometimes, she felt that Cody was intimidated by her.

"And you're sure you'll be able to activate it from your home computer?" She asked, getting ready for her entrance already, taking her hair down from its bun.

"It's not that difficult," he told her. "Three buttons I think."

"You think?" Her voice was a tad on the harsh side.

"I know." He corrected. "But you're going to have to tell me when."

She glanced at her watch and smiled. "About thirty seconds."

"Okay."

"And Cody?" She prompted.

"Hm?" He asked.

"Let's not mention this to your mother. I have a feeling she'd be very, very mad at both of us."

"As long as no heroes come after me, then it should be fine, right?" He asked, he seemed at tad apprehensive.

"I will die before I let that happen." She told him, with a sincere smile on her face. "Activate the robot." And she dropped the phone, leaving it to dangle on its cord.

-1-

Within seconds, the sky was rattling.

Viola shed her trench coat, exposing the purple-and-black themed villain suit. She heard a woman scream, and a man yell something about an earthquake. She laughed manically, and slung her hands outward, creating a light-purple, almost pink force field around her, and shattering the phone booth to pieces that shot through the air in all different directions. One of the scraps took out the window of a nearby shop, causing the alarm to sound.

Keeping her arms out in a tense pose, she directed the force field upwards, and took to the sky.

"It's Miss Mischief!" A woman cried in terror.

"That's right!" Viola taunted, laughing playfully. "And I hope you all enjoy my little surprise."

People were gathering under her, forming a crowd as the earth below them vibrated. Traffic had come to a stop, and people were poking their heads out the window, wondering what was going to happen. Cell phones and cameras were pointed at Viola, and the flashes were blinding her.

"The League will stop you!" A man yelled, and people started yelling their agreements.

Anger pulsed through Miss Mischief's blood, you could more than likely see it on her face, even though a thin purple mask covered the area from the tip of her nose to the beginning of her forehead. She could feel the energy flowing through her body as her muscles tensed, and she released her anger through her hands, and shot a blast of concentrated energy into the middle of the crowd.

People screamed as the deadly discharge came their way, and they leaped over each other trying to dodge it and escape death. The impact of the bolt sent cement flying through the air, causing injuries indefinitely and leaving a huge crater in the road.

"The League cannot, and will not stop me." She looked over her shoulder, film crews from the news had shown up, and were videotaping it all. "Ever."

Suddenly, the sky started to darken. People used their hands as visors and looked up at the massive being that was half-blocking the sun. Viola wet her lips and smirked. "That would be my queue to take my leave. I bid you a due, fair citizens."

She yanked the force field up once more, and this time, she shifted her weight, and turned her body horizontally, taking off high into the sky, so she wouldn't be there when the robot made landfall. She wasn't quite sure how the creature would react to the world, and whether or not it would be functional, its creator, after all, was a seventeen year-old boy. For the sake of her reputation, however, she hoped Cody would come through.

She waited for the collision, which came in the form of a huge sonic boom that took place when the metallic monster hit the town center. She was too far away to actually _see _the thing, but she could hear it stomping across the pavement, creating a metal-against-metal noise as it walked. She clenched her teeth. She hated that noise.

Now, she new, it was time for the real reason she'd had Cody create that bot. She took off downwards, hoping that she wouldn't be seen, straight towards League headquarters.

-2-

Hoping her distraction had been enough, Viola lowered herself on one of the balconies of the headquarters and disintegrated her force field, allowing herself to relax her arms. She slid the glass door open, and walked straight into the heart of the place she hated—and possibly feared—League headquarters. Where all the great superheroes trained and gathered.

She looked around the room. It was a small one, but there were many pictures of heroes that she'd fought many years ago—and some that were too old for even her to remember. There was Major Might and his trusted sidekick Right Wing, along with Invisible Lass—three heroes who had died recently, and leaving Right Wing, or Justice as he was later known, as Viola's personal hero, as he had, in fact, been the one to betray and kill them.

She noticed there were a few pictures of her and her sister tacked to the wall from the Golden Days. Back when they were a team, and all. Mostly, they were from newspapers, telling of Madame Mayhem's and Miss Mischief's triumphs over the League. _Why on Earth would they put up newspaper articles telling of their failures? _

As she drew closer to the wall, she noticed a particular article, telling of her sister's "death". There was a picture of her sister in her costume, fighting Invisible Lass at a bank that the two of them had robbed. The caption read: _Madame Mayhem, super villain tag team member, and notorious criminal finally destroyed by League member Invisible Lass._

What they didn't know, was that Invisible Lass had only unwittingly aided in the process of faking Violet's death. As she had been pregnant with Cody in even that picture.

Viola gathered herself. She was letting her mind wander and getting distracted, which had been the final mistake of too many villains. She was determined not to let it happen to her. Heading towards the door, she stopped as she put her hand on the knob, listening through the wood for any sign or sound. Nothing.

She opened the door, and peeped outside. The place was deserted, which meant her robot distraction had been a success. But of course it was—she was Miss Mischief after all.

Stepping into the hall, she reached for her belt, and took out an off-white, folded piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully, she looked to both sides of her down the long, narrow, crème-colored halls. The paper was a hand-drawn map of League headquarters that she'd stolen off some angry, failed recruit who had been trying to sell it to super villains. She located the control room on the map, and headed south when she saw that it was only a few rooms over. She rushed down the hall, counting doors and looking for dead give-a-ways, until she knew she was at the door she needed.

There was a tiny keypad on the door, locking her out. It was numbered 0-9, with extra buttons, that they probably put on there just to confuse recruits and the mentally challenged, such as Uberman.

"Oh no," Miss Mischief said sarcastically to herself. "However will I get in?" Her question was immediately followed by another energy discharge, that sent the door flying off its hinges and into pieces all over the floor of the control room.

The room itself would be heaven for her nephew. There were at least ten computers, and television monitors that let you see the training arena, which at that point, was in the last stages of construction. There were knobs and buttons that Viola dared not touch, out of fear of electrocution, or whatever funky shit they did.

She made her way to the largest of all the computers, assuming that it was the main computer, and shook the mouse. The screen was mostly black, with white letters asking her for the password. She reached into her bra—where she kept smaller items while she was in costume, and grabbed for a small USB output device she had stolen from Cody's room a few days earlier. But, unlike with most things, she intended to give it back as soon as possible.

She plugged the device in, and the screen took a moment to process it, then it read _generating random code sequences._

The screen flashed several times, but after a mere fifteen seconds or so, the background of the device appeared. Viola went for the programs, then straight to files, archives, and finally to members. She had not the time to look at the files now, but, using her limited computer skills, she saved the entire _members _folder to Cody's device.

She yanked the thing out, and shoved back up against her boob. It was then, Miss Mischief had her most fatal lapse of judgment. She opened a search of their files, and typed the words _Miss Mischief. _The documents and files pulled up—she was shocked. Her archive was excruciatingly long, with theories, plans, noted weaknesses, battle strategies. It scared her. The League new much, much more about her than she ever imagined.

She rushed, looking for a way to delete all of their knowledge, everything they could use against her in the future all her—

"Ouch!" She screamed, jerking herself from the chair, and throwing a force field around her instinctively, and she took to the air, beginning to float.

A golden blob was thrown aback by the sudden summoning of the force field, and slung against the wall with a thud. Instantly, there was someone at the entrance that used to be kept private by a door.

"Kevin?" The brunette girl asked curiously, looking at him on the floor, then, her eyes went straight to Viola, and they widened. "Holy fucking shit!" she cried.

"Awww," Viola spoke up. "She's star struck. How cute."

"You're…..you're…bleeding?" The girl asked.

Viola looked at her arm, and sure enough, the smallest trickle of blood was streaming ever so slowly down from the bottom of her shoulder. "Would you look at that? I am." Viola said, keeping her force field up. She looked at the girl. "And who might you be, doll?"

The brunette looked up at her, and suddenly, her fists were engulfed in flame. "First of all, don't _ever _call me _doll…"_

"Scarlett, don't—" Kevin began, scrambling to his feet finally. "She'll tear you apart."

"Ah, Golden Boy, so nice to see you," Miss Mischief said with fake sincerity. "Nice to know you know your limitations." She shot a look at Scarlett, who was still on fire.

"You're not going to be so powerful soon, though," Golden Boy assured her. "We've finally got you trapped, Mischief."

Viola laughed a dry laugh, letting him know that she surely didn't believe that. Not even for a second. "How so?" She humored him.

"You're bleeding because I gave you a shot of a new drug we've developed. It drains your concentration, which is, by our studies, your manifestation of power."

Suddenly, a feeling washed over Viola that she hadn't had in years—fear. "If you think that _you two_, of all the heroes that I have fought and killed, will be my downfall, you are sadly mistaken." She began the process of drawing an energy discharge, but could not feel it flowing through her. The fear grew stronger.

"You have two choices," Golden Boy told her with a triumphant smirk. "Surrender now, and let us take you in, or hold that force field until your powers are gone, and you are destroyed by your own creation."

"Ha. If you think I'm going to surrender, you're sadly…." Suddenly, she dropped to the floor. To her shock, she was actually cornered.

"You sure about that, _doll?_" Scarlett asked. She and Golden Boy shared a glance, as if it weren't enough watching the fall of a great villain, they had to taunt her about it.

But she could feel herself growing weaker—she could feel her arms tremble as she struggled to keep up the force field that would very soon kill her. Without her powers, her immunity to its force would be nonexistent, and instantaneous contact with it would cause her to explode.

She couldn't, however surrender. She had to think of her daughter—her beautiful Jaeda, the one she'd never see again. The wonderful blessing in her life that had been with her for sixteen years. The only person on the planet that could still see the good in Viola, Jaeda had been the only one who even cared that she existed, and was soon to be the only one to care that she didn't.

If she surrendered and her identity was revealed, life would never be the same for Jaeda, or Violet, or even Cody. They'd be hated, and mistreated, and discriminated against to an extreme.

That's why she decided at that moment that it was time for Miss Mischief to die—and her words from less than an hour ago echoed throughout her mind: _ the League cannot, and will not stop me. Ever._

Oh, how wrong she'd been. How very, very wrong.

And now, all she had to do was wait for her power to give away, and in a second, an explosion would shake the building.

At that precise moment, Viola Aurora Muller said goodbye to the world—both as herself, and as her alias. Her life didn't flash before her eyes, but mental images of her daughter, and her sister, and her nephew did—they had been the only three people that she didn't want to annihilate in her lifetime.

Viola said goodbye to the world—goodbye to her life, goodbye to Miss Mischief. She held back tears as in her mind, she said goodbye to Jaeda and hoped that in some way, her daughter would hear her and forgive her for orphaning her.

She finally realized that she was not as strong a woman as she thought. She was not invincible, and that her sister had been right all along. She was a stubborn old fool who didn't deserve this merciful death. She deserved a slow, painful one, which everyone who hated her could watch.

The time was close, she could practically taste death.

She'd be ashamed to say it, but her last thought was not of her daughter. As much as she would regret it, her last thought, was of flying through the skies of pure azure.

**A/N If it's totally dumb, just say so. Well…I don't how long it will be before this is read, considering the fact that it is the first story for the novel HERO, but I will finish this story for people to read when this fandom becomes active. **

**Anyways, if it's not worth my time, just say so….**


	2. Chapter 1

There were two things I hated about myself.

One; I tried much, much too hard to excel in school. I wasn't particularly pretty, I wasn't really sociable, I wasn't an athlete, so that pretty much blew my entire high school career out the window. The only thing I really had to keep me in the running with any of the other students at all was the fact that I handled four AP classes, and passed with A's and B's. Which apparently was amazing. At least my headmaster thought so, but she was a nutcase. My mother almost didn't let me begin attending classes at her school, because along with governing our school, she was financially the League's largest and most valuable assets.

My mother loathed the League—for good reason, I might add.

The second thing I hated about myself was, that I was desperate—pathetically desperate. Not particularly for friends, but for attention of the _male _gender.

It wasn't often that I got any type of attention from a guy, because as I said, really, the only thing that I had going for me was brains, and with guys, a big brain didn't compensate for other areas. Most guys, that is. Occasionally, I would find a guy that put brains before beauty, and when I did, I would go for it. Because, honestly, I was a tad on the lonely side.

Recently, however, I had found a guy, Preston, who was, in my opinion, absolutely amazing. He was charming, sensual, witty, and looked damn good in our school's uniform. We were currently at the awkward phase in the relationship, where you make up some lame excuse to share some outside contact information, to get talking to the person you like. I seriously hope it's not just me who has ever done that…

Taking four AP classes my senior year was not exactly easy, I often had a lot of homework to attend to after school, so Preston and I had exchanged email addresses for "homework help". But I, for one, prayed that more would come than that.

I looked down at my laptop, and pulled up the window that I had kept signed onto my email.

"Seriously?" I grumbled aloud as I rolled my eyes in frustration. I had no new emails. What could he have possibly been doing that he couldn't just send one little email letting me know that he hadn't fallen off the face of the planet in the last thirty minutes?

I rubbed my temples, as I realized that I had become border-line obsessed. _You want to date him, not stalk him_, I told myself, trying to keep the self-embarrassment to a minimum. I refreshed the page, knowing it would do no good, but still holding on to that slight glint of hope that maybe that was why I wasn't getting any messages from him.

Nothing.

I gently shut my laptop, and pushed it to the other cushion on the couch. It was time for a study break. Even though I still had a chapter to read for Government class, and then a forty question chapter review to finish before third period tomorrow, I still had to have some form of recreational time.

I looked up at the clock; it was a few minutes past four. I tried to remember what time my mom said she was going to be home, but couldn't remember what she said exactly. I had been writing an email to Preston as she was on her way out the door in her usual ensemble, meaning she was headed out to go torture innocent people, rob a bank, attempt to destroy the League—whatever it was she normally did on Wednesdays.

I leaned back on the couch. Relaxing as much as I would allow myself. I looked around for the remote, locating it on the coffee table. Unwilling to move, I looked at the small, black device, and concentrated. Slowly, the remote control inched upwards, into the air, and began making its seemingly-reluctant way to me. Once it was close enough, I snatched it from the air, and turned on TV.

Did I forget to mention I was telekinetic?

I looked at my laptop longingly, so badly wanting to check my emails, but knowing that my sanity was much more sacred than some guy.

I changed the channel to the local news, thinking that there had to be some coverage on what my mother was up to this afternoon. Some would call it a bad thing to have to check the afternoon news to see how much trouble your mother had gotten herself into. But that was life for me. My mother had her reasons for doing what she did, and who was I, or anyone else to tell her otherwise?

My mother had a soul, she did. But she believed in something, and was willing to fight for that. Just like anyone else.

The female newscaster was in mid-sentence when the channel switched over.

"…just tuning in, the notorious super-villain Miss Mischief was sighted today in town square." She paused a second, taking a breath. I smiled. "But she wasn't there for long. She released a giant mechanical robot loose on the civilians, and then took off into the sky."

"Cody…" I mumbled. Knowing that the only way my mom could program a machine like that, was with my cousin's help.

"Apparently, the robot was just a distraction for the villain's true purpose of being about today. After taking off, she then flew to League headquarters, as our heroes were busy defending our city from her contraption. Her intention for being at the Headquarters is still unclear, but what is known, is that Miss Mischief, was defeated and destroyed by her own powers, at three fifty-six this very afternoon."

My heart began to race as tears instantly rushed to my eyes. Was this for real? Or was it a cover? It seemed impossible…my mom was undefeatable, for years she had been so—

The reporter continued, seemingly mocking me now.

"The League's own Golden Boy and Miss Scarlett, injected the villain with a formula that caused her powers to be used against her, igniting an explosion that caused minor damages."

I threw myself off the couch. I didn't know what to do, my head began spinning as tears rushed to my eyes. My _mother _was dead? How could this have happened? How could she have left herself so unguarded? She was supposed to be the invincible villain—the only one to ever succeed over the League. How could she fail? How could she leave me?

I took off through my living room, not able to hold back the tears of grief any longer. I began to sob and heave. What was I supposed to do now? Who was supposed to protect me?

Then, a shocking thought crossed through my mind. What if they somehow figured out her identity? Would they come for me? Was I in danger now? Would they harm me if they knew who I was? Was that even _legal? _

As I reached the hallway, I looked at the walls—all the pictures, all of my mother and myself. The most recent one, taken at Thanksgiving dinner that my aunt had hosted the previous month, featured my mother, myself, my cousin Cody, and my Aunt Violet, all sitting on the tan couch that resided in her living room at her small, modest house.

I looked at it carefully, studying my mom's features, knowing that I would never see her again. My mother and her sister were twins, though, as I looked at my mother, I noticed for the first time that she looked older, more…worn out than did Violet. I could tell just by looking at her that she was the sister that had stayed within the business of villainy.

My mother had more wrinkles on her face, bags under her eyes like she was constantly tired, her skin was paler, and her hair was unnaturally black from years of dying it—partially to fit her persona as Miss Mischief, and partially to cover the gray hair that was slowly beginning to become more and more apparent in her natural color.

I studied the picture. Every single one of us looked so happy; there was a sense of togetherness that I felt when I looked at this picture. It brought tears to my eyes, because I knew that with the loss of my mother, we could never have that sense of togetherness again.

A wave of anger struck me, so violently, so suddenly, I screamed out loud. Without even thinking twice, I swiped my hand violently through the air. One at a time, all my framed family photos were yanked from the wall, and smashed against the wall and doors on the opposite side in one powerful, amazing domino effect.

I surveyed the area around me. Shards of broken glass littered the floor, frames busted and broken had scratched the tiling—something my mom would have lost her mind over. But now, there was silence. Devastating, eerie, blatantly loud silence.

Humoring the silence, I quietly wiped the tears from my eyes, sniffled, and walked towards my room. The only noise that I made came from the glass that crunched under my sneakers.

Until my cell phone rang.

I fished in my pocket, as the noise of the ringing was disturbing the new-found peace in my house—the quiet serenity that trails death and mourning.

I pulled the purple, touch-screen device out of my pocket, and read the name on the caller ID. It was my Aunt Violet.

"Hello?" I asked as I put the phone to my ear. My voice was dry and raspy, as most people's voices usually were at times like this.

"Jaeda?" She asked, she was frantic. "Jaeda, honey, have you seen the news?"

I took my time to respond, pausing as I pushed the blonde hair out of my face, crossed my arm over my chest, and resting the elbow I had the phone on against it, and bracing myself against the wall. "Yeah." I said, finally. "I saw it."

"Are you okay?" She asked, though we both knew it was a stupid question.

"I'm fine," I responded snidely, rolling my eyes. I knew it was too mean for the situation, so I quickly covered it up. "What about you?"

"I'm worried," she responded honestly. I could hear her breathe a deep sigh, which screamed regret. "And Cody doesn't know yet. He hasn't seen the news bulletin. He's up in the attic working on some technology project thing. It won't be long before he signs onto his MSN and reads the news headline."

"When are you going to tell him?" I asked, my eyes slowly began to fill up again. I didn't want to seem upset though. I was strong—I needed to show it.

"While you're on your way over I guess." She responded, matter-of-factly. I could almost see the slight change in the slope of her shoulders as she shrugged.

"On my way over?" I asked, halfway surprised, half way not.

"You didn't think I was going to just leave you at that house all alone at this point, did you?" She inquired. She didn't wait for me to respond. "Pack a bag, with a couple changes of clothes; get your books for school, whatever else you'll need for the next few days. Are you okay to drive over here or do you want me to send Cody to pick you up?"

"I should be fine," I responded, monotone. I looked around my room, already deciding what I should bring with me. The question of whether I should even go to school tomorrow popped in my head, but I knew I had to. If I missed even one day, I could get so far behind I wouldn't have time to catch up.

"I really don't like the idea of you driving while you're upset, Jaeda." She explained, I could hear the worry in her voice. "I already lost my sister. I don't need to lose my niece, too."

"I know. I'll be fine."

-1-

I didn't pack much. I just grabbed one of my mom's on-the-go bags, and put in a few school uniforms, a couple pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts, and a pair of pajamas. I already had a toothbrush over there, and I didn't see much use in bringing anything else. After all, I was only going to be there a few days.

I pulled my tiny, white junk car into their driveway, grabbed my bag, and of course my purse and laptop case, and headed for the door.

When I got inside, my attention instantly went to the television. Apparently, they were airing a different segment on my mother's death. Cody and Violet had their eyes glued to the television. Aunt Violet had been crying—you could tell, her face was puffy, eyes red, and a tissue was in her hand. She sat braced against the arm of the couch, watching the television.

Cody looked as he normally did. The thing about my cousin, he was a very emotional person, but he refused to show that emotion to most people. We were much alike in that aspect. His curly brown hair was untamed, and his cell phone was in his hand, but I could tell that he was angry, more than he was upset.

When Violet heard the door shut, she glanced from the television for a second, and then patted the couch beside her, and sniffled. "They're interviewing Mrs. Pallister." She informed me.

My eyes instantly flew to the TV. I walked towards the couch and sat down as I saw my headmaster's smiling face on the early-evening news. She was standing outside League headquarters, near where the explosion had taken place.

"Mrs. Pallister," The news anchor began, continuing with her questioning. I had missed the first half. "Is it true that you yourself funded the research and development for the drug that would stop Miss Mischief?"

"It is extremely true," My headmaster responded. My stomach dropped. "For years, that woman has terrorized the city. And for what? Fun? So when Uberman approached me with a plan to stop her, I practically _gave _him my credit card!"

The interviewer laughed. "How long did it take to develop such a strong narcotic?"

"Too long." Grace responded. "The villain had a chance to make too many lives miserable as we were developing it."

I smiled as I thought about how obvious it had been that Mrs. Pallister had so obviously despised Miss Mischief, yet she had had her in her very office on several occasions.

"So, then, I'm guessing you're very glad the drug worked?" The reporter inquired.

"I'm ecstatic." The old hag answered. I then took the care to notice that she was wearing a very expensive suit with my school's logo on it. _That's great publicity, _I thought sarcastically.

"Bitch." I mumbled out loud.

My aunt looked at me. Ever since I was a girl, she got on to me for cursing. But this time, she looked straight at me, and responded, "No kidding."

I laughed, for the first time since I'd heard the news, and leaned my head back on the couch. Violet was wearing her Eeyore pajamas, meaning she hadn't been to work today, and her hair was let down, and very, extremely tangled.

I directed my attention back to the television.

"So, Mrs. Pallister," The anchorwoman began again. "Are you at all disappointed in the fact that you will not get to know the true identity of Miss Mischief?"

"I've been told that we're working on still figuring out the identity of Miss Mischief." Mrs. Pallister said with a small nod. "How are we going to do it? I haven't the slightest clue. But, I do know, that if we do, we will likely be able to seek out any living descendants of her, and her sister."

We all looked at each other.

"Well crap." Cody finally spoke up. I looked at him. His eyes had gone from anger, to terrified. He looked down at his phone and began texting.

Violet grabbed the remote and turned the television off. "This is not good." She announced.

"What?" I asked, looked at her, she looked more worried than anything else.

She ran her fingers through her hair, and let out a deep, almost angry sigh. "If they do enough digging, and find out who your mother really, was, they'll find me as well."

Cody stopped texting. That caught his attention and he looked up in horror. "How? I thought you played dead?"

"I did." Violet answered. She stood up and began pacing a circle around the coffee table. "Well, Madame Mayhem did. I faked my death as a villain, but as myself, I'm still alive." She stopped and rubbed her temples a second. "If they find out Viola, all they will have to do is see my name, that I'm her twin sister, and make the connection."

"They have no proof." I stood up, trying to be helpful. What are they going to do? Imprison you for suspicion of being Madame Mayhem?" I looked her in the eye, she looked back at me, dumbfounded.

"Yes!" She said, almost angrily. "They will! They don't _need _proof! The things we did were so often and so terrible that they're just looking for some form of revenge!"

She threw herself on the couch and buried her face in her palms.

"Mom…" Cody began. "Don't worry, okay? It will be alright." He looked at her, sincere, and leaned back on the couch, taking a huge breath.

"If…" She began. "If they catch me, I don't know what will happen to you two."

My heart sank. I hated seeing her like this. Tears welled up in my eyes, thinking about my losses of today, and how hard it must be for my aunt. I sat next to her, and put my arm over her shoulders, crying.

"Let's worry about now," I asked her. "Please? If it comes to it, we will make sure that they don't figure anything out—however we have to do it. If we have to, we'll move." I sniffled. "We have a history of being a tough family. And you were a badass criminal lady. I'm sure we can do anything."

It was true. I knew we could, and I was bound and determined not to lose anyone else important to me.

And above all—avenge my mother.

Without saying anything, Violet stood up, and disappeared into her room in the back hallway.

I looked at Cody. "Wow."

"Yep." He responded, seemingly pissed off.

"You know I'm not going to let this happen to us, right?" I asked, pulling a hair tie out of my pocket and binding my blond hair back.

"I figured." He replied. "And what exactly do you plan on doing? Or do I even want to know?" He stood up. He was wearing his usual jeans and a T-shirt. He was taller than me by a few inches, and was built very slim.

"You probably don't want to know." I responded, and began to head towards the door. As I placed my hand on the knob, he spoke up.

"Do you need any help?" He asked, he gulped. He knew that whatever I was about to do, was going to get me into serious trouble. Cody wasn't used to trouble—hell, neither was I. But, things were changing. And as changes the world around you, you must change to adapt and survive. Correct?

I slowly turned back to him. "You want to help me with his?"

He signed and ran his fingers through his curly brown hair. He was paler than normal, I noticed. I wondered if it was from shock. "It's my family, too."

I laughed. "We have a seriously screwed up family."

He laughed a little, but didn't respond. I took a half-step closer to him as I began my next sentence. "You know, if you do this with me, we're in this together until the end. There's no going back, no changing your mind."

"Do you have any bigger plans past whatever it is we're about to do?" He asked, reaching for his tan tennis shoes which rested by the couch.

"Not yet." I admitted, and I felt myself turn a light shade of red. "But maybe that's something we can do together."

"As long as our family is protected." He told me. I looked at him as he walked towards the door.

I blocked his path. "I'm going to be honest and tell you this, right here, right now."

"Um…go for it?" He asked, he seemed more confused than usual.

"Not only do I want us to be safe, but I want to take down the League itself." I explained, anger in my voice.

"I understand."

"Alright." I said, a devious smirk on my face. "Let's go."

"Where exactly are we going?" He asked, as I stepped through the doorway and into the cool winter air. I was wearing nothing but jeans and an old pajama suit with my bleach-blonde hair pulled back, and yet, I didn't mind. I was a girl with a hidden agenda now.

"We're going to pay a visit to Headmaster Pallister, of course."

-2-

We pulled up in front of the front office of our school. It was beginning to reach nighttime, but it was still light enough we could see outside. I could see the light on in the Headmaster's office. I could tell Cody was nervous, he looked around, as if trying to spot potential witnesses.

I, however, wasn't in the least bit nervous. I actually felt the strangest sense of empowerment. Like I was making a bold, brash statement at what I believed was right. Which, I might add, is exactly what my mom worked for. _That's _the reason she was who she was—not to rip off people, rob banks, hijack trains, or any of that. Though, she did do that stuff occasionally, if it would help her make the statement she wanted to make.

I was about to make my first statement. My first of many.

I didn't inherit my mother's hair, eyes, or pale complexion, but if I inherited anything from her, it was her ability to pull off schemes flawlessly. I knew I had inherited that from her, and hoped to God it came through for me, and only hoped that Cody had inherited it from Violet.

We looked at each other, and simultaneously emerged from the car, leaving the doors ajar. And together, we walked into the main building.

The lights were still on, though the front desk was abandoned and the office doors behind closed tightly and likely locked. Cody immediately ducked down behind the front desk, and I headed towards the wooden door that was painted an ugly, puke colored off-white, with the plate on it that read _Grace Pallister, Headmaster. _I knocked on the door.

"It's unlocked!" The woman yelled from the other side of the door. You could hear the confusion in her voice, as it was odd for someone to be knocking on her door so late in the evening.

I looked back at the front desk. Cody popped up, and mouthed the words _Good Luck _to me, and then touched the computer monitor behind him, and his power caused the computer to start up, and monitor to light up with sudden life.

I took a breath, suddenly becoming nervous of what was to come. Slowly, I opened up the door. On the other side, Grace was waiting to see who was disturbing her at this time of the night. She probably thought that it was some bitch from the League coming to update her on the status of my mother or something. When she saw me, she was confused.

"Jaeda," she said almost breathlessly. "What brings you here this time in the evening?"

Her office was prominent, but always messy. Files strewn about the desk with no particular pattern, open drinks left everywhere, books on the three bookshelves that bordered the wall behind her desk tauntingly out of place, her pens left uncapped and put back in their holder. But her education degrees and certificates and various other awards were proudly displayed, pictures of her friends and family hung, so she could look at them whenever she felt the need, and newspaper articles of league victories that involved her were framed, and hung everywhere.

I took a few steps in. "I was hoping to get your help," I began to explain. "You see, an assignment I'm having trouble with is due soon, it's an essay, about your favorite hero."

"What type of hero?" The Headmaster inquired. She looked uneasy, but motioned for me to sit in a chair on the other side of her desk.

"Superhero. Like…from the League." I lied. "And…well, I was watching the news this afternoon, and I saw your interview—I like to" I paused, trying to find the right word. "Overdo things, when I can. And I really need a good grade on this, so I was struggling to figure out how I could really make my essay pop." I smiled up at her, trying to suck up. "But then when I saw your interview, I thought _what better way to do something original, than to do it on someone who works behind the scenes, but is just as important. _You know? And so, I thought that if you would just give me a few minutes of your time, I could get my information, get the paper written, and ultimately get an A."

She looked at me for a few seconds. A cold stare on her face, like she knew I was lying to her, like she was suspicious that I was here for revenge, and that any second she was going to pull a knife on me in her own defense. I really felt as if she were reading my soul with her glare—in a way, it was creepy.

Suddenly, her expression lightened, and a smile spread wide across her face.

"Jaeda Muller, you really know how to do good work." I smiled, taking her compliment, but feeling like I wanted to punch her in the face at the same time. "You are one of our school's finer students for sure. And I see nothing but good things for you in the future."

"So you'll help me?" I asked, falsifying an expression of hopefulness to add effect.

"Of course I will dear. Ask me anything you need to make your paper an A plus." She responded. She relaxed her muscles and leaned back in the chair. She was almost an elderly woman. Maybe in her late forties, early fifties, with graying brunette hair, and chocolate brown eyes. She was frail, and had the face of a smoker, but the voice of a life coach. There was something about her, though, that didn't sit well with me. Besides the fact that she was indirectly responsible for the death of my mother, of course.

I looked at her, and then looked down at my lap. "How long have you been working with the League?" I asked her, trying to keep my voice at a good, mellow tone.

"Since I was about your age, I guess." She told me, recollection crossing her expression. "My father was a member, you see. I myself didn't inherit any powers or anything like that. But I married a man who had a very large sum of money, God rest his soul. So, my father would ask for favors when the League needed something financially. And, I just kept giving even after his death." She looked off into the distance, like she was recalling some repressed memory.

"If you don't mind my asking," I began, knowing I may have been treading in dangerous territory. "How did your father die?"

It looked like my question stung her physically. She tensed up a bit, but she seemed willing to answer my question. "It was a train wreck. Literally. There was a train traveling cross country, which was going to pass near our small city. It carried gold, and tons of precious gems that were being delivered to some jewelry makers up north…"

It was my turn to tense up. I knew this story already.

"…The train was broken into, by the two most notorious villains of that time; Miss Mischief and her sister Madame Mayhem. My father was the closest one to the train, so of course, being a flier, he got on to the train. When the villains knew he had reinforcements coming, they trapped him in one of the cars, and threw the conductor off the train. Then, they escaped. My father wasn't so lucky." She looked down. "The train crashed. He was older, he couldn't take the force of the crash."

Suddenly, I was even angrier than before. Had she really had my mother killed out of revenge for what had happened to her father? That had to be some form of illegal—and wasn't it wrong for my mother to have been murdered either way? Is there a certain point when it becomes okay to murder someone? Suddenly, the plot of Julius Caesar became _so _much easier to understand.

"Miss Mischief died today." I announced to her, as if she didn't already know—as if she hadn't been the one personally responsible, the one who had made it possible.

"Yes," Grace replied, nodding awkwardly. "Yes she did."

"Do you believe she got what she deserved?" The question came off my tongue like daggers. I looked slowly up at her, and she was looking back, as if she were shocked that I'd even ask that. She pushed her hair behind her ear, and crossed her arms over the same expensive suit she had been wearing on TV.

"I believe that we are all safer now that she is gone." She said, narrowing her eyes at me. She seemed to be getting mad that my questions had taken a turn towards _too _personal. "Personally, I would have liked to learn her identity. That way we could monitor her friends and family, and make sure they don't try anything too shady for revenge."

There was a slight pause.

"Her name was Viola Muller." I said.

"Pardon?" Mrs. Pallister asked, her expression showing now confusion.

"Miss Mischief." I explained, glaring at her. "Her name was Viola Muller, and she was my mother." I stood up. Grace slid away from me slightly.

"That's not funny, Jaeda," she warned, looking at me. But I could tell by the fear in her eyes she knew that I wasn't joking.

"It's not a joke, Headmaster." I growled, I could almost hear the evil in my own voice. "But now that I told you that," I place both hands on her desk and leaned in, and whispered my last words to her. "I'm going to have to kill you."

Without warning, I waved my hand, and all three bookshelves tipped, and began to fall over. I could see the glint of sorrow in Grace's eyes as the books began to fall, and ultimately, as the shelves came down as one huge mass, and the Headmaster was crushed under the cover of the sound of tumbling books.

**A/N I hope that was worth the wait. Sorry it took so long. I'm going to try to get better at updating this story. I like the plot, and hope you do as well. **


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